


On the Procurement of Love Potions in the Greater Chipford Area

by argyle4eva



Series: Wise As Serpents, Innocent As Doves [17]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Humor, Life in the South Downs, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:15:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22634935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/argyle4eva/pseuds/argyle4eva
Summary: Another South Downs fic, this time examining one of the ways in which the Husbands fit into their new home.Written for Mielpetit/mielpetite'sIneffable Valentines prompt list, Day 10 - Champagne/Love potion.As far as I can tell, there's nowhere by the name of "Chipford" in the South Downs (by intent), though it is, hopefully, of plausible linguistic construction for the region.Posted half an hour early, by my time, since I'll have a busy day tomorrow and want to make sure this goes up even if I'm distracted.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Wise As Serpents, Innocent As Doves [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1535606
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51
Collections: Ineffable Valentines 2020





	On the Procurement of Love Potions in the Greater Chipford Area

The inhabitants of Chipford were long accustomed to having a local witch on hand, so the addition of two new supernatural beings to the neighborhood wasn’t a huge perceptual leap. Before long, Mr. Fell and Mr. Crowley were adopted into the normal routines of life.

One of those routines was the occasional request for magical aid. Miss Privett (the aforementioned witch) was still the go-to in that regard – she was a known and trusted quantity in the community, but there were a few situations where she was no help at all. One thing Miss Privett absolutely would _not_ do was brew love potions. If you showed up at her door with that kind of request, you would get a fierce lecture on consent, morality, and the falseness of forced love, right before she slammed the door in your face.

If, after that, you decided to brave Wattle Cottage in hopes of finding a love potion there, made it past the disconcertingly animate rambling rose at the gate, and brought a suitable gift to the front door, your reception would depend on whether the bell was answered by Mr. Fell or Mr. Crowley.

Mr. Fell would invite you inside, make you tea, and then proceed to give you essentially the same lecture as Miss Privett (more politely worded) before showing you the door. At least the tea would be good, even if you got nowhere.

Mr. Crowley, assuming he didn’t tell you to get lost immediately, would lean on the doorframe (like Miss Privett, he tended to keep visitors outside, rather than inviting them in), and say, “I could, you know. Make them fall in love with you. Don't even need a potion. It’d be as easy as snapping my fingers,” (he’d hold up one hand in illustration, without actually snapping his fingers), “but then what?”

He’d talk you through an increasingly terrifying, ever-expanding slippery-slope scenario that would go awful places, illustrating all the ways things can go wrong once a person has decided that other people’s desires, feelings, and autonomy don’t need to be respected. Behind his dark glasses, his eyes would glint whenever he shifted position slightly, and you’d be reminded about the rumors of what he was, where he’d come from, and why he wore those glasses everywhere.

At the end he would ask if you _still_ wanted a love potion. If you didn’t shake your head and leave immediately - if you were foolish or bloody-minded enough to say yes - Crowley would respond, “Oh, for - ! Haven’t you listened to anything I’ve been saying? Just buy a bottle of champagne, show up at their door, and tell ‘em now you feel. _Then take no for an answer_ if that’s what they give you. Now, get lost.” And he’d slam the door in your face, just like Miss Privett.

Needless to say, long-term residents of Chipford learned quickly to leave the topic of love potions alone, but the occasional newcomer or tourist might make an attempt, to the entertainment of the locals.

One thing everyone could agree on: of the three, Mr. Fell was by far the best choice. He made an excellent cup of tea.

You did have to get past the rosebush, though.


End file.
